|A Ranger's Tale
Author: Tsumujikaze no Soujutsu PM
Redemption? Hah! The world has never been fair to anybody and everyone. It's either you pursue something or nothing at all. That's how I live my life. As a wolf and Ranger combined...Rated: Fiction M - English - Adventure/Spiritual - Chapters: 23 - Words: 67,565 - Reviews: 107 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 11 - Updated: 01-28-13 - Published: 04-09-12 - id: 3012028
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So here I am nearing the final chapter edit-wise. And one more thing: Dr Self-Destruct, you're one hell of a crafty bitch. I hope you're reading this right now because I thought you're a guy until you decided to be your own Metatron. :P
Latest shout out dated 02/11/2012: Winning 1-0 away at the Stadium of Light might be my best birthday gift gifted a couple of days too early. Yep I know this is a Capital Cup tie with a win being nothing more than an added bonus. But still it's nice to pull off an atomic wedgie over a derby rival and see them going postal denial modal online just because they're one league above you lol! That is unless someone is talking about the opponent throwing a derby. Which is truly dumb in the world of football anyway.
Reminder to keep me grounded: Every team is only as good as the last match. Middlesbrough will lose matches, I'm pretty sure of that. Getting mocked as a result? Well, that's footballing life and I don't really mind anyway since everyone else gets the same post-match stick.
A Ranger's Tale
"You asked for me, Sir?" inquired Guy as he stepped forth from the door.
That dreaded moment had finally arrived as the resultant creak cackled like an all-knowing crone. Sipping on his mug of tea, the light in Moggray's eyes flickered upon sight of an innocent Lion doomed. Endless maelstrom lashed out within his very soul with emotions nothing more than a serpent feeding on its tail. The decision to break Guy with truth most imminent have been cast in stone and steel, yet for the very first time in his life as a leader, Moggray Tonn was reduced to a mere sheep lording over his lost cub. What is to come will come.The Gaffer of Teesside despised religion for what it is. Ironically, denial was never been an option.
"Yes, you're summoned here for a very good reason. Before I speak my words however, I want you to agree to something."
"Erm, what will that be?" Moggray's heart started to bleed upon seeing Guy's head cocking to one side.
"Very simple. Whatever that will be said, you must promise me to remain calm. Not just only the news itself, but above all do not commit anything rash pertaining to this matter," came the sombre reply. And with such courage, one must pay forth a knowledge relevant.
"Okay. Guess it's no choice, suck thumb here..." answered a baffled Guy with shoulders shrugged.
"Arrow nocked: Pallister Scholes is dead."
"Don't you dare give me this kind of face and tone, Guy Cody! Unless you don't remember the man who groomed you back during your Merseyside years!" snapped Moggray as his tone stung like a slaver's whip.
Perhaps towards myself rather than the boy.
"Killed?" trembled Guy as banging echoes from the Gaffer's desk reverberated in his mind without mercy, "In the line of duty? Dude, you sure know how to joke, Sir. He's the best fighter in Manchester! Possibly even in the entire Red Lions! No way damned chance in Hell will he..."
"Guy, listen to me. It's true that Scholes is an extremely good fighter, let alone a leader. But against an opponent with the calibre of that thing, there's no way he could have survived!"
Moggray felt slightly better upon trying to explain things to his charge. Just like a distant relative trying to tell a twelve year old that he had just been orphaned.
"This is fake!" exclaimed Guy in disbelief with denial's fire burning in his sapphire orbs, "And besides, you did say that Scholes is a leader-rank! No bloody way he would wade into the tide of battle..."
For the very first time in his life, Moggray actually committed an act never dreamt before as a stinging knuckle cracked across the cheek. His expression softened as he realised what was the deed done in the name of futile rage.
"Have I boxed you well? Good. I'm sorry to break this to you personally given that you've always treated him as your target and idol. He's not the Soldier for crying out loud."
"And it is some asshole bigger than the Soldier who murdered a perfectly good man? Don't give me this kind of kiddypop!" snarled Guy as the fatherly Lion could only stay speechless before a young one hailing from the same family.
Minutes drifted away in silence, the trickling sand within an hourglass most real merely an illusion of eternity. The cub understood not how to truly roar, the leader of the pride knew not any words of guidance and console. The scarred veteran had foreseen such a situation coming to head, yet why did he opt for the pragmatic approach of a soldier? Atrocities committed by his own ilk was the only story of his youth within ranks warring against the rest. Cries for help went unheeded as blood and rape were the only means of domination. If partaking in anything and everything imaginable was that sole path to solace, then perhaps he would not be facing this very hell legitimately feared now. He had stuck to his ways. Now was the time for rewards.
We all are the Quintet before every victim, yet nothing more than lambs to slaughter once our turn beckons...
Catterm Leen spotted Guy's slouching form at the bar counter as he greeted the bouncer on duty. Only able to imagine the turmoil wreaked, he had never seen before his best friend drinking alone like a fish. The biggest problem ever? He could assume no idea on what and where went wrong except such being the only reason why Guy asked him to come over in the first place. After all, venting of one's frustrations should only be truly logical in the ears of a worthy listener.
"How many mugs have you downed by now, Guy?" asked Catterm as he dragged a stool beside his comrade, "Hopefully not beyond the standard quota of five."
"Don't worry, Catts. This is just the second mug. And no, I'm not drunk. Not even by a long shot because I'm not that useless. So don't worry about me going nut drunk loco here. For now at least," replied Guy as he gulped down yet another mug of mead.
"Liar. You're still talking coherently, but starting to talk too much and out of sense. Not that one can truly lie upon being gifted with too much drink though," Catterm sighed as he lit a cigarette.
"At least not you," unsurprisingly curt went Guy's retort.
"Okay then. Double confirmed. Say what: I'll be here for you until the rooster crows thrice. So just shoot," a smoke was puffed out in reply as taking a drag was Catterm Leen's only way of calming down.
"Catts, Scholes' dead. Killed in the line of duty. Slaughtered like an animal. Period."
"What the hell you're talking about, Guy? Now you're not making any sense!" exclaimed the redhead as his joint fell from a gaping mouth.
"The mission in Citias. The dream I told you about. Put two and two together and you'll get a four."
"Oh crap, understood now. Congrats buddy. You're the first human being to make me feel like an asshole for all the correct reasons," sighed the fiery lad as he managed to recompose himself by lighting another cigarette.
"Yeah. I always believed I could reach his level and fulfill my dreams in front of him. To me, that's the best and only gift I can give to him for all he has done for me. Then the next thing I know, that dream came, Scholes got killed and I finally understood the meaning of 'vision' for good," Guy sobbed as he rubbed his palm across the face.
"Okay I get the picture, but life and death are predestined. You can't change Fate as the Church has always preached," replied Catterm as he tried to find a way to console his best buddy. As the said Fate had it, Guy performed a speech most heinous no sooner such words left Catterm's lips.
"Don't talk to me like that, Catts!" hollered Guy as tears of denial streaked down his hollow face gaunt, "Why not I rape and kill your girl? Maybe you won't see me as a buddy then!"
"Why you... don't you dare talk to me like that, Guy Cody! I swear I'll end you on the spot if your name ain't that way!" snapped Catterm as amber eyes narrowed for the fight.
"What a shame then," grinned Guy as sapphire eyes and knuckles cracked forth a bitter intent, "Brawl or bawl?"
"Son of a bitch..."
"Yeah I know that!" answered the sandy blond as bone crashed against bone, "No dad and mom, nothing worth a hundred cents now!"
"Young Mistress!" exclaimed Ross as she tried catching her breath, "Something bad is abound!"
"You seem flustered... let me guess: it's that mangy brat again, no?" huffed Twong.
"Let fine ol'Daddy talk to himself, Ross," grumbled a portly old man dressed in a suit of finely meshed chain mail as he reclined by the door-side.
"Ignore him," said Alestrial with a firm tone befitting of one far beyond her humility, "I'm sorry to be this mean, Twong, but you've finally set Yeovil off."
"Look what you've done here, senile tard!" snapped Twong, "All because of that brat!"
"I don't remember a young lion being that pretentious," smirked Yeovil as a strong grip rested against the hilt of rapier sheathed, "Care for a wager here, faker?"
"Stop it, the both of you!" hollered Ross as her voice set the squabbling duo back into their rightful places, "Twong, you stay here and make sure nothing big happens. Yeovil! Your sword and presence will come in handy on the spot. As for me and Young Mistress, two will be enough for a trip! Get me?"
"Do you think I can avenge him?" whispered a crouching Guy as bravado had long evaporated into nothingness.
"What do you think, moron?" snapped Catterm peevishly, "Don't you think it's a wee bit too late after a nice bit of brawling?"
"I thought it would only be between the two of us!" protested Guy weakly.
"Crap excuse! How many Guys and Catts can a bloke find in the same bar?"
"Only two. You win, Catts," Guy's shoulders drooped as he got up and smashed his fist repeatedly against the prison wall.
Catterm Leen knew there was nothing he could do here. A mere audience to a mere show of despair. He was lucky to have a lover's warmth to fall back on, but he wasn't that sure on whether his best friend should be seen as equally lucky. Alestrial Eliaden had always been an enigma to all the smallborne around her. Sharing their humility and pain wasn't the key to her identity. Rather he could only afford to call it gates leading to an enigma called Alestrial Eliaden.
"Guy Cody and Catterm Leen! You're bailed for good!"
"Huh? Am I hearing things? This from the bailor?" gaped Catterm.
"Screw it and bail, Catts. I don't bloody care anymore."
"You heard me, soldier."
"Look Sir! I'm perfectly sane and normal! See?" gestured Guy frantically.
"You don't look anything like that," sighed Moggray as he looked at the female duo, "This is the best arrangement coming from Your Grace, Maistress Alestrial of House Eliaden. I trust Guy should be in good hands from now till the end."
"Rest assured I will fulfill my promise, O' Northern Lion," curtsied the Cinha maid.
"Good," smiled Southgate Garrat as he took a step forward from Moggray's side, "Allow me to give a soldier's bow."
"You saw all those animals attracted to you just now?"
I hate it whenever I hear that preacher open his pie hole. Best as well to give him an answer right here.
"Yeah, so? Critters don't have anything better to do. That's all."
"You still don't understand what I'm trying to say."
I truly feel proud of myself. I should if not for his smart-crack nature.
"Aeranath, get this clear in your head. Every animal works by instincts. More or less anyway. Mortals are no different from the rest borne of flesh, bone and blood. As I've taught you before, self awareness finishing on the highest end might not be that justly lauded."
Wonder who should be the bitch then? Most amazing question yet to be asked.
"Rule of equivalent trade-off: everything is unfair because critters can be so much wiser. End of story."
Reply from that genius called myself. Yeah, right.
"You're not evil by nature and never will be as well. The beasts and birds made sure of that."
"I don't need any random critter to define my morals. The end."
"That bloody old fart... why am I dredging up some useless crap out of random?" muttered Aeranath in annoyance. Out of the sudden, his senses then caught something twitching nearby. Supernatural gifts bestowing him information not of random nature, he knew there was a certain intent within the unknown stranger as he left the scene. Aeranath smirked upon staying put on the spot with a single thought coursing through his sitting form.
I don't know who in the name of rat's ass you are, but since I'm so pissed off at this moment, I can only say "what a shame".
"Surely you're not..." grimaced Twong.
"Would Ross fib like a whore?" snapped Yeovil.
"Don't you dare call Ross stupid names!"
"Stop that stupidity, both of you!" lambasted Ross as two full grown men were floored instantly by a ladle gripped firmly, "There's no way we're gonna alarm Young Mistress!"
"Old Master?" quipped Twong as he rubbed the back of his skull.
"He won't give a flying damn," huffed Yeovil as he dusted his pants, "He cares about Young Mistress alright. Doesn't mean that he should see that worthy lad as something of an equal worth though. Did he say where he was going, Ross?"
"Well, little Guy said he's sending a basket of pastries to his best buddy on shift duty now..."
"Crap! And you granted him the ticket?" questioned Twong as his features betrayed events soon to unfold.
"Well, yeah I did," replied Ross with Yeovil completing the trio of dread, "And we all know crap is about to happen..."
"Ross, you suck at joking. I, Yeovil, can be this damned sure."
"Living as if tomorrow's the end. It takes a fool to carry through such a simple truth. Will I end up the same way as well, Guy?" smiled the Cinha child wistfully.
"That's a weird question. I guess it's far better to seek an answer out of the future, no?" replied Guy Cody as he chewed on a piece of hay nonchalantly. A brief silence accompanied the cooling breeze as midsummer continued a song destined to pass.
"Let's make a promise by the park then, shall we? You will marry me upon our eighteenth birthday, right?" smiled Alestrial Eliaden as she had finally set her sights on an union most unlikely. The Causacean boy shunned by all and the Cinha lass of all truth humble and unknown. As dragonflies flitted about as an audience of witnesses, a profound promise was sealed by the most simple manner of pinkie hooking.
Alestrial Eliaden smiled as she peered beyond the prison cell of a droning classroom. No one heard the words whispered forth from her delicate lips, yet they were far more real than all the world had to offer.
"You're far better off than me. Or just about anyone around me. Guess that's the reason why I forced a childish promise out of you when we're merely twelve..."
Whew, finally finished this whammy. Amazingly enough, the entire choreograph had taken a drastic turn for the lulz. Guess having a concussion accident a few days back can be pretty much worth it, huh? ;)
P.S: I've suddenly discovered that I might have created my very own comedic trio. I swear Mak Rosminah ain't that fierce though. I swear it upon my character. :D
Additional note: At the time where I did the first draft here, I didn't know what is yolo. Apparently, Guy's stance on life was actually based off a similiar of living philosophy from Tohno Shiki of the Tsukihime visual novel/manga.
Final note: Apparently, it's not that surprising to see all Smoggies celebrating a poor man's win over a rich man's team, i.e. Sunderland 0 - 1 Middlesbrough. What's really mind boggling though is that the richest blokes' team actually celebrated with that poor lads' team. Yes, I'm talking about the Newcastle fans i.e. the Geordies.
Updated Edit: 3rd November 2012 (plus a half dead brain now because I was being way too stupid in staying up late last night)
Arrow nocked: A statement of intent used in a variety of situations.
Nut drunk loco: Utterly drunk.
Gifted with too much drink: Having too much to drink.
Putting two and two together and getting a four: Getting the correct answer out of the obvious.
Nothing worth a hundred cents: Having nothing in life.
Until the rooster crows thrice: Until the appointed time comes. Inspired directly from what Jesus had told Peter in the Bible.
Bailed for good: Released from jail for good.
Brawl or bawl: A statement of dare especially in events of a fight challenge.
Smallborne in the formal context means the common folk in The Known World.
Maistress is used as an honourary prefix title for any lady of noble birth while Your Grace is actually a term used for lower ranking nobility.
A soldier's bow is a customary kneeling with the person's head bowed in reverence. This is either used for formal occasions where addressing high ranking nobles and greater is concerned or a show of heartfelt gratitude. The latter case may include favours sworn to the other party.